Home Alone
by Fajitas
Summary: John leaves Sam and Dean alone while he goes off on a hunt. Dean thinks he's in for the most boring week of his life until he and Sam discover a local haunting. Teenchester.
1. Chapter 1

Home Alone: Chapter 1

_Webster Groves, Missouri—July 1996_

Dean drifted back to consciousness as the sun hit his face and woke him up. He rolled over, only to be hit in the eye by sunlight reflecting off the mirror. He groaned in surrender and sat up. He saw that Sam was still soundly asleep in his bed, which happened to be conveniently placed out of the sun. Dean's bed was placed perpendicular to Sam's and next to the door. The room was so small that their beds almost touched at the corners. Right across from their room was the bathroom and down the hall to the left was the room their dad slept in.

Dean momentarily contemplated playing a prank on his sleeping brother, then decided against it. After all, Sam's hair was still recovering from its run in with Nair. He smirked then decided to get something to eat.

He walked out of the bedroom and down the hall. This end of the hall came out between the living room and the kitchen. There was a small TV on the wall next to the hallway with a couch and coffee table on the opposite wall. The kitchen was small, just barely large enough to fit a four chair table. Dean walked into the kitchen where John was sitting planning their next hunt. John glanced up and muttered, "Morning."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment, then poured himself a bowl of cereal. He sat down next to John and read some of the newspaper articles John had been researching.

"Poltergeist?"

"Yeah, it's been causing some trouble in a house over in East St. Louis."

"When do we leave?"

John didn't answer, he just gathered his papers and stuffed them in his journal. He dropped it in a duffel bag and Dean asked again, "Dad? When are we going?"

"I'm leaving in ten minutes. You're not going anywhere."

"What? Why not?"

John got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter and said, "Do you remember what happened the last time we took Sammy on a hunt?"

"Well, yeah. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"That werewolf almost tore his throat out. If Sam's ever going to become a good hunter, he needs more training."

"Dad, as much as it pains me to admit it, Sam's actually getting pretty good at this."

John took another sip of coffee. "He's good at hand to hand, I'll give you that. But his aim is what let that werewolf get to him. If he was better with a gun, that bullet would have hit the bastard in the heart and not just grazed him."

Dean stroked his chin as he tried to think of a reason he should go with his dad. "You'd really rather have me stay here and teach Sam how to shoot instead of watching your back?"

John put his coffee cup on the counter, picked up the duffel bag, and walked to the front door. He pulled it open, then faced Dean. "I'll be gone for at least a week. When I get back, I want to see some definite improvement in Sam."

"Yes, sir."

John closed the door as he left the apartment and Dean finished his breakfast. As he drank the last of the coffee, he dreaded the coming week. It was going to be the longest seven days of his life. He went back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans with the knees torn out. A gray t-shirt and a green button up with the sleeves rolled back to the elbows completed his look. He was putting on his boots when he saw that Sam was starting to stir in his bed.

He left the room and went to the living room where he pulled out all the weapons. He dissembled them and placed them on the coffee table. He knew he wasn't normally an organized person, but when it came to cleaning his guns he was meticulous. Every piece of every gun was placed neatly next to corresponding pieces. He picked up an old rag and started to clean.

--------------------

Sam woke up, but didn't open his eyes. He did not want to get out of bed because he knew all he would hear about would be this upcoming hunt. All Sam knew was that the problem was further north and the odds were that he wouldn't be going with his dad and brother. He didn't really mind missing out on the hunt, but he minded that they didn't think he could do anything right. He forced himself to get out of bed and headed into the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror and scowled when he saw his hair. It seemed to be growing back so slowly. He ran his hand through it, then heard Dean laughingly say, "You know, you should be thanking me. Before I got through with you the humidity plastered your hair to your head. It made you look like a drowned rat. Besides, Sammy, the girly hair'll grow back."

"It's Sam!"

Dean held his hands up in mock surrender and said, "Sorry, Sam…..y."

Sam slammed the bathroom door as Dean burst out laughing.

When Sam got out of the bathroom, he quickly got dressed in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He headed down the hall. Dean was sitting on the couch and had all the weapons spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He was just finishing cleaning the barrel of a shotgun when Sam asked, "Where's Dad?"

"He left."

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why didn't you go with him?"

"Somebody's got to stay behind and watch your sorry ass."

Sam made a face and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Dean added, "And Dad wants me to teach you how to shoot."

Sam sat down at the table. "I know how to shoot."

"Fine. Someone has to teach you how to aim."

Dean went to the bathroom and washed his hands. Then he went into their room and grabbed the keys to the Impala. He stood by the door and said, "Let's go."

Sam walked over and Dean said, "Dude, I'm taking you shooting. Grab a gun."

Sam looked at the coffee table where all the guns were still laying out in several pieces. "Uh, Dean…"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Tell me you remember how to put a gun back together."

Sam turned red and stared at his shoes. "Dammit, Sam, I've shown you how to do this a hundred times."

Dean quickly put a gun together and handed it to Sam with a few extra clips. "For the rest of the week you're cleaning the weapons every night."

Sam's eyes widened. "Even you don't clean them that often!"

Dean shrugged. "You need the practice. Besides, you can never have a gun that's too clean."

They started walking out the door and Sam said, "You're an ass."

"And you're a little girl."

Dean laughed as Sam punched him in the arm and they left the apartment. Their apartment was one of three in what used to be a house. It had been renovated and now was owned by an old lady, Ms. Torinski, who lived in the basement. The Winchesters had the first floor apartment and the one above them was empty. Dean and Sam hovered just outside the door until it looked like the coast was clear. Then they ran for the car. They had only gone a few steps when they heard a voice behind them say, "Hi boys!"

They stopped and grimaced, then turned around to see Ms. Torinski coming out of her apartment and walking towards them. She leaned heavily on her cane and was wearing a dress that Dean thought looked like a 50s reject. "Hi, Ms. Torinski," Dean said as he and Sam slowly backed towards the Impala.

"Where are you boys off to so early?"

"Uh, Sam has a doctor's appointment."

She stooped a little lower so she could look at Sam. "What's wrong with you, sweetie?"

Sam heard Dean mutter under his breath, "He has to go to the VD clinic." Sam glared at him and Dean said louder, "He just has a checkup," then he grabbed Sam's arm and practically threw him at the car.

As Dean started the engine and pulled away he could hear Ms. Torinski say, "I once had an uncle who was a doctor…" she trailed off as Dean drove down the street as fast as he could.

Dean turned on the music and Metallica started filtering through the speakers. He said, "We need to talk to Dad when he gets back. I think that old bitch is possessed."

"Did it ever occur to you that she might just be a lonely old woman who wants some attention?"

Dean smirked and said, "You're not getting soft on me now, are you Sammy? I tell you what, after we're done shooting you can spend a little quality time with your girlfriend."

Sam mumbled something under his breath. Dean hesitated for a second, then said, "Dude, did you just swear at me in Latin? You're such a geek."

They rode the rest of the way in silence and Dean parked the car along the side of the road. There was a forest on the opposite side of the road; that was where Dean was going to take Sam. Dean opened the trunk and pulled out a bag that was hidden under various amulets and weapons.

Sam gaped and said, "You're not seriously going to make me use the cans, are you?"

"If you ever actually hit one I wouldn't."

Dean threw the bag at Sam then started walking into the woods. Sam looked inside the bag and said, "Dean, these are all rusted."

"Don't be so whiney. Besides, it's not my fault I haven't had to use these since I was seven."

Sam frowned, "Are you going to make fun of me or teach me to aim?"

"What makes you think I can't do both at the same time?"

Sam threw the bag back at Dean, who smirked. Once they were deep enough in the woods that they couldn't see the road any more, Dean lined up the cans on a low branch. He stood behind Sam and said, "Show me what you got."

Sam sighed and took his time lining up his shot. Then he fired and the third can from the end fell off the branch. Dean slapped Sam on the back and said, "Alright, Sammy! This is going to be the shortest training session ever."

Sam said, "Except I was aiming for the one on the very end."

Dean's face fell, but he quickly recovered and said, "Okay, no big deal, just try again."

Sam inwardly groaned. If Dean was being nice to him it meant he was really doing badly. Sam tried over and over again with Dean constantly giving him tips on how to be more accurate. He knocked two more cans of the branch and he hadn't been aiming at either of them. After a couple of hours Dean started to get hungry and he could see Sam was discouraged. He decided they should stop or else tomorrow he'd have to drag Sam kicking and screaming out here.

"Okay, Sam, that's enough. Let's go back to the apartment."

Sam went to pick up the cans, but Dean said, "Leave 'em. We'll be back tomorrow."

They walked back to the car and the drive back was filled with silence. Sam knew Dean was disappointed in him. Dean usually went easier on Sam when he was training him, but that wasn't going to happen this time. Sam actually reached over and turned on the radio, just so something would fill the silence. They pulled into the driveway and Dean cut the engine.

"Dean…" Sam began.

"Do we have anything good to eat?" Dean asked and got out of the car before Sam could answer. Sam got out and walked behind Dean, who slowed down his pace. He looked at Sam and the smallest smile crossed his lips. "Dean," Sam said warningly.

Dean grinned and ran towards the door. He quickly ducked inside the apartment, locking the door behind him. Sam pounded on the door, "Dean!"

"Is that you, Sam?" Ms. Torinski said as she came up the stairs from her apartment. "How was your appointment?"

"Um, well, uh…"

"You know my uncle was a doctor…"

Sam was trapped as the old woman droned on and on about her family. Sam unfortunately wasn't nearly as good a liar as Dean and couldn't think of a way to get rid of the landlady. After about thirty minutes, Dean must have decided he'd had enough because he opened the door and yanked Sam into the apartment by his collar.

Sam glared at Dean who said, "Sorry, Sammy, didn't realize you were still out there."

Sam said nothing; he just stomped back to their room and dropped down on his bed. Behind all the joking, Sam knew Dean was still disappointed. That bothered Sam. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, Dad was disappointed in him all the time and it never got to him. But when it was Dean, it tore at Sam and made him feel ashamed.

--------------------

_Midnight, 2 Blocks Away_

Ethan stood in front of the old house, fidgeting with his flashlight. He kept asking himself why he had agreed to do this. He had been playing Truth or Dare with his friends and one of them had dared him to spend the night in this old, deserted house. Ethan didn't believe in ghosts, not by any means, but he still wasn't looking forward to a humid night spent swatting away mosquitoes.

The house was a split level with two stories, not including the basement. It was made of yellow stucco and there were green vines climbing up the walls on every side. Most of the windows were broken from rocks that kids had thrown through them. Ethan went up the steps and tried the front door, but it was locked. He went around to the back door, which was also locked, but there was a broken window he was able to climb through.

The kitchen had an old-fashioned refrigerator which was a sickly green. Off to the right was a dining room with an antique table and black textured walls. After that was the living room. To the left of the door was a baby grand piano. There were stacks of old newspapers and magazines everywhere.

He climbed the narrow staircase that led upstairs to a hallway. The two bedrooms on the right looked relatively normal; it was the one on the left that gave him the creeps. It was the size of two bedrooms. Across from the door was a twin bed which was right by a window. On the other side of the room were a bunch of antique dolls. The way they looked at him was almost enough for Ethan to run from the house, but he forced himself to stay. He was not going to chicken out on this, no matter what.

He went down the stairs and then to the basement. There were boxes and boxes of old letters and pictures. In the corner was an old push mower with one of the handles missing. Ethan smirked as he thought of the poor man who had to use that thing. He spun around when he heard a creak on the stairs.

"Who's there?" he called out in a shaky voice.

No one answered. He slowly went back upstairs and swept the first floor with his flashlight. When he didn't see anyone he let out a breath of relief. He turned around to go back into the living room, then he screamed.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam walked into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Dean was sitting on the couch watching TV in a black t-shirt and jeans. Sam thought Dean was mad at him. Last night Sam had cleaned all the weapons, which he had actually done a pretty good job on. But, when he tried to put them back together, things got a little tense. Dean was constantly telling Sam how to do it, and Sam could tell he was getting frustrated. He couldn't blame him. Honestly, Sam hadn't put a weapon together since the first time Dean had shown him how. He never needed to because Dean always did it.

Sam made himself some toast and sat at the table. He looked at the newspaper and saw that there had been a murder the previous night. Ethan Connors, 14, had been killed only two blocks away. His throat had been slashed open in an abandoned house.

"Dean, did you see this?"

"Yeah. Doesn't look like our kind of gig, though. Just a murder."

'Just a murder' Sam's mind echoed. You knew your life was screwed up when a murder became a casual thing that you didn't take notice of. He finished his toast then got dressed. When Dean saw that he was ready, he grabbed the keys and both of them headed out the front door. Ms. Torinski was already on the front lawn, like she was lying in wait for them.

Sam heard Dean groan when the old woman saw them. She waved and said, "Did you two hear about what happened to that poor boy last night?"

"Yes," Dean said as he walked around to the driver's side of the Impala. They both got in as Ms. Torinski kept talking, but they couldn't hear her anymore.

Dean drove to the same location they were at the day before. On the way there they passed by the abandoned house that kid had died at. The whole property was taped off, but no cops were there now.

In the forest Sam started shooting again, but he wasn't much better today than he was yesterday. Dean sat against the trunk of a tree and when Sam turned around to get another clip, he saw that Dean was asleep. That made Sam mad. Did Dean really have so little confidence in him that he didn't think there was anything worth staying awake for? Well, Sam would show him. He quickly grabbed another clip and started shooting again. He didn't care how long it took; he was going to get better.

_2 Hours Later_

Dean woke up when he heard a low growl. Then he realized that was his stomach. He saw that Sam was still shooting and, unfortunately, still missing. Dean shook his head and stood up. Sam heard him move and turned around. "Come on, Sam. I'm starving."

Sam picked up the expended clips and they both headed back to the car. When they pulled into the driveway and Dean cut the engine, Sam said, "I'm going to get better, Dean."

"Never said you wouldn't, Sammy."

"But you don't really think I will."

Dean opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Sam climbed out of the car and went into the apartment. Dean wanted to think that Sam was going to improve, he really did. But he wasn't the most patient person in the world and if Sam hadn't improved by the time John got back, Dean was the one who was going to pay for it.

Dean got out of the car and heard a small voice say, "Did you read the newspaper today?"

Dean groaned. That senile, old, nosey… "Yes, Ms. Torinski."

He walked towards the door, but she kept talking. "It's a real shame what people will do to children. Why I remember when that Beekley boy died in that same house back in '83. Even died the same way, too. Quite the coincidence."

At that Dean turned on his heel and faced the old woman. This couldn't really be a hunt, could it? He put on his most charming smile and said, "Really?"

Her eyes lit up now that she had an audience. Then she talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. Dean filtered out most of it, but he caught enough to think that this week might not be so boring after all. "Well, Ms. Torinski, it's been nice talking to you. But, I got to go. See, my little brother got held back a year in school and he needs my help to make it up over the summer."

The landlady said, "Well, aren't you just the sweetest older brother?"

Dean walked back to the apartment and thought that Sam would shoot him if he ever found out that Dean had said that. Then he smiled because, in that situation, Sam might actually hit his mark. He opened the door to see Sam on the couch reading some geeky book or another.

"Let's go, Sam."

Sam looked puzzled. "We just got back. Besides, I thought you were hungry."

Dean grabbed a granola bar and shoved it in his mouth. "That murder last night? I think it might be our kind of thing after all. I was talking to the old lady, and she told me that a family used to live in that house in the eighties. Apparently one day the dad killed the mom and son. Slit both their throats from ear to ear."

"And now you think there's a vengeful spirit in the house?"

"I hope so."

Sam gave him a look. They walked through the front door and Ms. Torinski said, "Where you boys off to?"

Dean replied, "We're just going to the library."

"Oh, well, have fun."

They got in the car and Sam looked puzzled. "She's just going to let us leave? No one-sided conversation as we drive away?"

"I guess so."

Sam looked at Dean and said, "What did you say to her?"

Dean tried to put an innocent look on his face and said, "What makes you think I said anything to her?"

Sam turned in his seat and said, "Dean."

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched. "I told her you got held back a grade and that I was helping you catch up."

Sam's mouth dropped and his eyes widened. He punched Dean as hard as he could in the arm and Dean started laughing. Sam crossed his arms and stared out the window.

Dean looked at Sam. "Sam loves old ladies."

Sam didn't even flinch. He just kept staring out the window. Dean ruffled Sam's short hair, but even that didn't get a reaction. Dean thought that this wouldn't have normally pissed Sam off that much, but combined with everything else it must have really got to him. Dean decided it was time to pull out all the stops and said, "Bitch."

Dean waited. A minute passed, then two. Sam didn't say anything, didn't even move. Come on, say it! Dean thought. Dean pulled into the parking lot of the library and opened his door. Then he heard a very small, "Jerk," come out of Sam. Dean laughed and got out of the car. It worked every time.

The boys entered the building and went over to the computers. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Dean said. The computers were all out of order. Dean asked a librarian when they would be working again and learned it would be a few hours.

"Let's just come back then," Sam said.

"Or we could do it the old fashioned way," Dean said, looking at the microfilm section.

"You're not serious?"

Sam groaned as Dean started walking over to the information desk. There was a girl working there who was probably a little younger than Dean. She was talking on the phone with her back to them. They walked. Over Dean cleared his throat to try to get her attention, but she kept ignoring them. Dean said, "Hey, sweetheart?"

She sighed in an annoyed way and said into the phone, "Hold on a sec." She turned around, looking like she was going to throw them out, them she saw Dean. "I'll call you back," she said, then hung up.

She smiled at Dean and Sam rolled his eyes. "How can I help you?"

Dean smiled back and said, "I'm looking for information on the Beekley family. They lived in the town in about '83."

She spun around and went up and down the rows until she had retrieved all the microfilm that had newspaper articles from that year. Sam looked at all the film and said, "We're going to go through all of this?"

"Yeah."

"This could take hours, Dean."

"That's the nature of the job, Sammy. It's not like we're going to find everything we need in the first ten minutes."

Sam grabbed a roll of film and turned on the reader. Two hours and a whole lot of frustration later they were done. Dean faced Sam and said, "Did you find anything?"

"No. Dean, I really don't think there's a hunt here."

"Well, maybe Ms. Torinski just got the wrong year."

"Or the wrong family, or the wrong house, or the wrong state. Dean, you said it yourself. She's a lonely, senile old woman."

"What's gotten into you? Research is usually the only part of the job you enjoy."

"I just think we could be doing more constructive things with our time."

Dean scoffed, "Like what, standing in the woods for a couple of hours while you shoot at cans?"

Sam didn't answer; he just gathered up the microfilm and headed for the desk. Dean got up behind him carrying the rest of the film. They girl must have been on break because there was now a middle-aged woman at the desk. She smiled at them, "Did you find what you needed?"

"No," Dean said.

"Well, what were you looking for?"

"Information on the Beekley family. They were murdered over on Clarks Street."

The librarian looked like she was trying to remember something. "Beekley, Beekley. Do you mean Beckley?"

Sam and Dean both jerked their heads up. Dean said, "Maybe. The dad murdered the family?"

"No, from what I remember, the dad left the family. Then the mom killed her son. Slit his throat, I think. That must have been, let me think. Yeah, it was back in '82."

Dean looked down at Sam and smirked. Sam said, "That still doesn't mean you're right."

"The Internet's back up now, if you…"

They both took off towards the computers before she could finish her sentence. Dean dropped down in a chair and typed in the name Beckley. He clicked on the first article. "Well, Sammy, according to this Thomas Beckley ran out on his wife Maria and their son Michael. Two weeks later, she kills her son, claiming that he was going to run away too. Still think I'm wrong?"

"Just because there was a murder doesn't mean there's a vengeful spirit in town."

Dean searched the database for murders that happened on Clarks Street. "Look at this. December '83, Frank O'Connor, age 15 is found in that same house with his throat slashed. There was another one in '86, '89, '94, and now this one. All were teenage guys."

"You were right," Sam said in awe.

"It does occasionally happen, Sam."

"How did Dad miss this?"

"He only checks recent activity when we move. The last one before this Ethan kid was two years ago. He didn't see it."

"We should call Dad."

"Why?"

Sam was shocked. "You want to go after this thing, don't you?"

"Damn straight."

"And you don't think we should tell him what we're doing first?"

"This ain't exactly rocket science, Sam. We find out where Maria's buried, we dig her up, we salt and burn her. Simple."

Dean got up and headed for the exit, wondering if it really would be simple. There was no reason it shouldn't be and it wasn't as though this would be the first spirit he'd offed. He was sure they could do it. Just a simple salt and burn.


	3. Chapter 3

Just as they reached the front door, Sam grabbed Dean's arm. "What?" Dean asked.

"Do we even know if Maria's dead?"

Dean paused. "She's got to be, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Don't you think we should check first?"

"Fine, geek-boy." They headed back to the computers and Sam began searching.

"Okay, this was two weeks after Michael's death. Maria was arrested, but before the trial she hanged herself in her cell."

"That good enough for you?"

"Okay, so it is her. Let's see if we can find out where she's buried."

Sam searched until he found Maria's obit. "We might have a problem, Dean. It says after she killed herself, Maria's body was released to her family. It doesn't say where they buried her. Where do we go from here?"

They once again headed for the door. Dean said, "County clerk's office."

They left the building and got into the Impala. "Yeah? And how exactly do you plan to get in there, Dean?"

"Same way we always do."

"Dean, without Dad, no one's going to believe that you're a federal agent, or a local cop, or anything else. Besides, we don't know how long Dad plans to stick around this town, so you really shouldn't use a fake ID."

Dean started the car and drove away. "Then we'll take a little field trip tonight."

"You want to break in? No way, we're not doing that!"

"If you have a better idea, I'm listening."

"Dean, what if we get caught?"

"Then we'll just be a couple of stupid kids."

"And what happens when they try to call Dad and he's not there?"

"So he left on a business trip."

"But we don't know how long he's going to be. He's practically always gone longer than he says he will be. What if they can't get a hold of him after a week?" Sam got really quiet and whispered, "Remember what happened in Newark?"

Oh, yeah, Dean remembered that. Stupid CPS had given him the worst three weeks of his life. Dean looked over and said, "We won't get caught, Sammy. Alright? We'll be careful."

Sam grudgingly nodded. "What about security?"

"Every time I've gone with Dad to a clerk's office, the security's always tight at the front door. Beyond that it's usually just a few guards. It shouldn't be a big deal."

"So what do we do until then?"

They pulled into the driveway and walked into the house. Dean dropped down on the couch and said, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to take a little nap. Wake me at midnight, then we'll go."

Dean fell asleep almost instantly. Sam grabbed a gun and a couple of extra clips, then left the apartment. He amazingly managed to avoid Ms. Torinski, then headed for the forest.

_Midnight_

Someone was really annoying Dean. They kept poking him in the arm. "Dean. Dean!"

"What?" Dean grumbled out as he turned over.

"You said midnight."

"Can't be midnight already."

"It is. Come on."

Dean rolled off the couch and grabbed the keys. Making sure he had his lock picks, he and Sam left the apartment. The drive over was quiet. Dean could tell Sam was high-strung. Dean was a little nervous too. This was the first time he would be breaking into a government building without having John with him. If they got caught tonight, Sam would never forgive him. Not that he would really be able to forgive himself. He didn't want a repeat of Newark either.

Dean parked a couple of blocks away from the building. He smiled cockily at Sam and was glad when that seemed to loosen him up a bit. "Come on, Sam. Let's go."

They got out of the car and walked towards the building. Whenever they heard a car approaching they quickly ducked to the side behind a tree or bush. Finally they were there and Dean approached one of the basement windows. "You sure about this, Dean?"

"Aw, scared, Sammy?"

"No."

"Right," Dean smirked. He used his knife to unlock the latch of the window. He slid it open silently and smiled at Sam before ducking inside. Sam rolled his eyes and followed. Dean had already moved to the door that led out into the hallway, but Sam lingered behind. Dean looked over his shoulder and said, "Come on!"

Sam didn't move; he just darted his eyes around nervously. Dean was beginning to regret bringing him, but Sam needed experience. That was the whole reason he couldn't shoot. Dean didn't want to have to take Sam out a couple of years later and realize he didn't know anything about breaking into a building.

"Sam, come on. We're just going to go look at the record and leave. No one will ever know we were here."

Sam slowly inched forward and Dean opened the door. He peered out into the hallway and saw that no one was coming. They left the room and began inching their way down the hall. They came to the elevators, which had a directory by them. "Okay," Dean said. "Death records are on the second floor."

They found a back staircase by the elevators and started walking up. The reached the second level and the door creaked as Dean opened it. There were rows of desks and then a hallway. They went down the hall and came to a room marked "Death Records." Dean smiled and picked the lock, then they went inside.

They both started searching the records. After twenty minutes, Sam said, "I found it."

Dean peeked over his shoulder, using the moonlight to read it. "Maria Beckley was buried in Westville Episcopal Church Cemetery. Nice work, Sammy."

They put everything back the way they had found it, then left the room. They were about halfway to the elevators when they heard a noise. Dean ducked between two desks and Sam ducked underneath one. A security guard entered. Dean couldn't help but think that the man was taking his sweet time working his way through this level. He finally took out his radio and said, "Second level secure."

Dean let out the breath he had been holding. The guard was almost out of the room when Sam moved just a little bit and hit the desk he was hiding under. A pen rolled off and hit the floor loudly. The guard whipped around and scanned the room with his flashlight. He didn't see the boys, but he started looking down each individual aisle. He stopped when he came to the one where the boys were. He saw the pen and moved the chair in front of the desk. He bent down to pick it up, but the pen was right in front of Sam.

As the guard leaned over, Dean hit him from around the corner with a left hook. The guard dropped to the ground, unconscious. "Nice going, Sam."

They both stood up and Sam looked at the guard. "I thought you said no one would ever know we were here."

"Well, they won't know it was us. Besides, it's not my fault you couldn't sit still for five minutes.

They ran down the stairs as quietly as they could and back into the basement room. Dean gave Sam a boost so he could get out, then he climbed up. They practically ran to the car, got in, and drove away. Dean laughed and said, "Dude, I could practically hear you panting when that pen dropped."

"Very funny, Dean."

"Oh, it was. I bet you've never been so glad to be short."

"I am not short!"

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are."

"Not."

There was silence for a moment, then Dean said, "Are."

Sam smacked him in the arm, then noticed something about the direction they were headed in. "Dean, where are we going? The apartment's the other way."

"Where do you think? Westville Episcopal Church."

"You want to do the salt and burn now?"

"Why not? It's only 1:30."

"How do you even know where it is?"

Dean looked at Sam like he was an idiot and said, "Oh, I don't know, Sam. Since it's called 'Westville Episcopal Church' I thought it might be on Westville Ave."

Sam said nothing as they pulled up alongside the church's graveyard. Dean opened the trunk and took out two shovels, some salt, and accelerant. They started looking for the grave. After a few minutes Sam found it. Dean tossed a shovel at him and they both started digging. When they hit the casket, Dean broke the top in with his shovel, then he climbed out of the grave.

Sam stood there looking up at him. "Dean."

"Well, Sam, if you're not short you should be able to get out of there."

Sam crossed his arms across his chest. "Come on!"

"Alright, you little baby."

Dean pulled Sam out, then they saturated the bones with salt and gas. Dean lit a match and threw it on the corpse. The thing lit up and Dean said, "Hey, Sam. That's the first time you did a hunt without Dad."

Sam smiled. "Dean, we make one hell of a team."

"Yeah. You do the research, I charm the ladies, pick the locks, knock out security guards, save your ass…"

"One day I'm going to save your ass."

Dean laughed, "Right, Sammy. You keep telling yourself that."

_At the Beckley House_

Donna slowly walked behind her boyfriend as they approached the house. "Shawn, I really don't think this is such a good idea."

"Scared?"

"It's just a little creepy, I mean, Ethan died here only couple of days ago."

He shrugged. "Then don't come. I'll just leave you out here, all by yourself."

"Fine."

He looked a little hurt, but said, "Fine," and walked inside.

Donna stood on the front lawn by herself, wondering if she should go in or just go home. Despite the July heat she felt a shiver work its way up her spine. She started walking away when she heard a scream come from inside the house.

"Shawn!" she yelled as she ran up the front steps and ducked through a broken window.

She didn't see or hear anything, so she called his name again. There was no response, so she walked further into the house. She walked into the kitchen, then screamed. Shawn was lying there, soaked in blood from his slit throat.

_The Next Morning_

Sam woke up and saw that Dean was still sprawled out in bed, wearing the same outfit from the previous night. He got up to use the bathroom, then heard a knock at the door. He had to stand on his toes to see through the peephole. He saw who was there, then ran back to the bedroom. He jumped on Dean's bed and began shaking him.

"Dean! Dean, get up now!"

Dean swatted at him and said, "I don't want to go to school."

"Dean, there are cops at the door."

Dean bolted up and said, "What?"

"Two cops."

Dean stood up and headed for the door. He put on his cocky smile and opened the door. "Morning officers," he said.

They were both men, which automatically put Dean at a disadvantage. The officers looked at Dean, then Sam who was cowering behind him. "Is that your car?" one of them said, gesturing to the Impala.

"Hell, yes."

"We need to ask you a few questions about a break in at the county clerk's office last night."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean leaned against the open door, refusing to let the cops into the apartment. He crossed his arms and put on his cockiest smile. "A break in? Why would I know anything about that?"

"Because your car was seen a few blocks away from the building in question."

"And you honestly think I have nothing better to do with my time than break into some government building?"

"Why was your car there?"

"How do you know it was my car?"

"Yours is the only black '67 Impala in town."

"Maybe it was me. But since when is it illegal to park on a public road?"

"What were you doing out there at 12:30 a.m.?"

"Star-gazing."

Sam could see the officers were getting more and more annoyed by the minute. Why did Dean always have to be so…Dean? "Son, if you're not going to come clean, I want to talk to your parents."

"You can't."

The senior officer was starting to get a little red in the face from frustration. "I can bring you in right now for obstruction of justice."

Sam spoke up from behind Dean, "Wait, he's not being a smart-ass. They're really not here."

The cop directed his questions at Sam, probably thinking he would have more luck with the innocent-looking younger brother. "Where are they?"

"Our Dad's away on a business trip."

"Where's your Mom?"

Dean pushed Sam further behind him and said in a cold voice, "She's dead."

Sam couldn't tell if it was what Dean had said or the manner in which he had said it that made both of the cops take a step back. The older officer recovered first. "When will your dad be back?"

"By the end of the week. Any more questions?" Dean asked, saying 'questions' as though it were an insult.

Before they could answer he closed the door. Sam said, "Why couldn't you just give them a straight answer?"

"Wouldn't want to scare you, Sammy."

Sam sat down and ate his breakfast while Dean made coffee. Then there was another knock at the door. "If it's those cops, I'm going to start swinging."

He yanked open the door to see Ms. Torinski. He quickly replaced his scowl with a smile, but before he could speak, the old woman threw her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

"Oh, you're alright! I was so worried about you! And your brother, he's alright too?"

Dean was too shocked to say anything, but she looked in to the apartment and saw Sam. She ran past Dean and embraced Sam in a bone-crushing hug. For an old lady, she was pretty strong. "Good, it wasn't either of you!"

Dean and Sam just looked at each other. Finally Sam spoke, "Uh, Ms. Torinski, what are you talking about?"

"Well, when the cops wouldn't tell me the name of that boy, I thought it might have been one of you and I thought what a shame that would be, seeing as how there's just the three of you, and if it had been your brother, who would have helped you catch up in school, and…"

"What boy?" Dean interrupted.

"Oh, that's right, it didn't make it into the papers this morning. Well, I was walking down the street because I was going to go visit my good friend Lucy, you know she's recovering from a broken ankle and I was going to bring her some soup, and I know that's typically for a cold, but it always helps me feel better, no matter what's…"

"Ms. Torinski!" Dean said.

"What? Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, I passed the Beekley house and there were a bunch of police cars in front of it and I asked one of the officers what had happened, you know he reminded me so much of my son, Henry; but Henry moved to Colorado and never comes to see me anymore. You would think that after everything I've done for him he could at least…"

Dean frustratingly cleared his throat.

"Anyway, he told me that they found another boy in the house this morning. Well, actually his girlfriend had walked in and she found him there with his throat slit open and they wouldn't tell me who the boy was, but I thought it might have been one of you, which would have been a shame…Oh! Look at the time! I've got to go; you boys talk too much for me."

And with that she left the apartment. Once Dean and Sam had processed what she had said, Sam asked, "You think it was Maria?"

"I don't see what else it could be, but…we salted and burned her. Since when does that not kill a vengeful spirit?"

"Maybe it's not Maria."

"Who else makes sense? It must have been her."

"Maybe it was Michael."

"Oh, yeah, cause that really makes sense, Sam! I've only seen the murderer come back as a vengeful spirit. I've seen the victims come back as death omens, but that's it."

"Fine, but what would let a spirit survive having their bones burned?"

"I don't know."

There was silence for a few minutes, then they looked at each other and at the same time said, "Bobby."

Dean picked up the phone and dialed. "Singer here."

"Hi, Bobby, it's Dean."

"Hey, boy, what can I do for you?"

"Is there another way to get rid of a spirit besides a salt and burn?"

"I thought your daddy went after a poltergeist."

"He did, this is a purely hypothetical question."

"Don't bullshit me."

Dean sighed. "Promise you won't tell my dad?"

Bobby laughed and said, "So, your daddy's gone and you thought you'd conduct your own little hunt?"

"It just seemed to be a simple haunting, nothing I haven't handled before."

"So you already tried the salt and burn, but the spirit's still sticking around?"

"Right."

"When that happens the spirit is usually attached to something besides its bones. You know, something that was so important to them that it essentially became part of them. Like if you became a vengeful spirit, a hunter would probably have to burn that car to get rid of you."

"Real funny, Bobby."

"You're not involving Sam in this hunt, are you?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Well…"

"Just make sure you take care of him, you idgit."

With that Bobby hung up and Dean told Sam what he had said. Sam said, "How the hell are we supposed to find out what her spirit's attached to?"

Dean grabbed the keys and said, "We must have missed something. Let's head back to the library."

They drove peacefully for about a minute, then Dean made a sharp right turn, taking them away from the library. Sam was thrown against Dean, who shoved him away.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam said.

"We're being followed. Probably those cops from earlier."

"Why are you trying to lose them? We're just going to the library."

Dean smiled and said, "Old habit."

After a few more turns that threw Sam toward either side of the car, they lost the cops, then arrived at the library. They went inside and over to the computers. "What are we supposed to search for, Dean?"

"Try arrest records. Let's see if we can find out what she had with her when she killed herself."

They searched for a while, then Dean said, "Found it. Personal effects of the late Maria Beckley: clothes, shoes, earrings, and watch."

"Well, the earrings or watch are probably the only things that could be sentimental enough for her to latch on to. What happened to her personal effects when she killed herself?"

"Uh, they were released to her mother, Rosa Delgado." Dean put her name through the database and found an address. "The mother lives in Ohio."

Dean sat back in the chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Feel like a road trip, Sammy?"

"Dean, even with your driving we wouldn't get back before Dad. Besides, I would think that her spirit would follow the object around."

"So, if her spirit's been hanging around her old house, whatever it's attached to should be in that house?"

"Maybe."

"So, what, we torch the place?"

Sam gave him a look. "We might want to be a little more subtle than that."

"It's not like we can search the house, Sam. I mean, it goes after guys, so you're safe, but what about me?"

"Shut up. We have to at least try. All of the attacks so far have been during the night time, so we might be during the day."

"Let's at least figure out what the object is before we go looking for it. Any ideas?"

Sam thought for a minute, then said, "Can you find a picture of Maria when she got arrested?"

"Okay, random."

"Just do it."

Dean clicked on a couple of newspaper articles, then found what he was looking for. "This was taken when the cops were escorting her from the house."

"Dean, look at her left hand."

Dean looked, but didn't see anything. "There's nothing there, Sam."

"That just my point. Where's her wedding ring? It's not in her personal effects and she wasn't wearing it here."

"You think the spirit attached itself to the wedding ring which is still in the house?"

"Makes sense. That also narrows down the area we'll have to search. It's probably in her bedroom."

"What makes you so sure it's the ring? She obviously didn't care about it enough to wear it constantly."

"Well, she was arrested pretty early in the morning. I doubt she had time to put it on. Besides, she was so freaked out that her husband left that she killed her son. I'd say she was a little too invested in their marriage."

"Okay, so we break in, find the ring and burn it."

"Dean, do you have any idea what the melting point of gold is? Around 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit."

"How do you even know that?"

"Some of us actually pay attention in chemistry."

"Hey, I pay attention to chemistry."

"Wrong kind of chemistry, Dean."

Dean shrugged and said, "Okay, science boy, how hot are we talking here?"

"A blowtorch should do it."

Dean got up and began walking out. "No problem."

"Really? Where are we going to get a blowtorch, Dean?"

They left the building and Dean said, "There's one in the trunk."

Sam froze. "There is?"

"Yeah," Dean said and got in the car.

Sam got in the other side. "Why didn't I know?"

"I'm not going to trust you with a blowtorch!"

Sam pouted a little and said, "Fine. So when do you want to do this?"

"How about now?"

They drove over to the Beckley house, but there were still about a half a dozen cops there. Dean kept driving and said, "We'll come back tonight. If there are still cops here we'll at least have a better chance of sneaking in."

"Dean, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Sam, sooner or later someone's going to get into that house and then someone else dies. We have to chance it. We'll go at 11."

"Fine," Sam said. They passed the forest where Sam had been practicing and he said, "Let me out here."

Dean looked over at him, confused. "Why?"

"Just do it."

Dean pulled over, but grabbed Sam's arm before he could leave the car. "What's going on, Sam?"

"Just trust me."

Dean just stared at him, but finally said, "If you're not there at 11, I'm so going to kick your ass."

Sam just nodded and left and car, careful to conceal the gun tucked into his jeans. When the Impala was out of side, Sam went into the forest to keep practicing. He was getting better, but very slowly. He finally hit the can he had been aiming at and was sad that Dean wasn't there to see it.

--------------------

Dean sat back at the apartment in front of the TV. He thought that Sam was mad at him. Why else did he want out of the car? It wasn't like he had been trying to get Sam to practice his shooting lately. And Dean was letting him participate much more in the hunt than John would have if he had been there. Maybe Dean would let Sam use the blowtorch tonight. He immediately discarded that thought. Dean rarely got to use the thing and he was in charge. Besides, Sam would probably burn his hair. Dean smiled as he remembered there wasn't much left to burn.

Dean looked over to the clock and realized he had a good six hours to waste until he and Sam went to take care of the ghost. He left Sam a note saying he had gone out, then he drove away. He turned onto the highway and didn't stop until he had reached Oakland. He found a bar, using his fake ID to get through the front door. He smirked when they let him in.

He started playing pool, automatically hustling even though he didn't need the money. He had played a few games when he heard a voice behind him say, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Dean thought the voice sounded familiar as he turned around. He froze when he saw the bandage on the man's face and recognized him as the security guard from the other night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dean forced a smiled to his face and kept telling himself to remain calm. "No, I don't think so." Dean turned around to continue his game of pool.

"No, I never forget a face. I just can't quite seem to place yours. Are you from around here?"

"No," Dean said as he took another shot. He was getting more and more nervous that the man would remember him. What should have been an easy shot became difficult and he missed.

The other player took his shot and the security guard said, "What's your name?"

"Dean Matthews," he automatically replied, using the fake name they had been using for the last few weeks.

"Hmm. Don't recognize the name."

Dean's opponent was still sinking shots. Dean knew that if he was going to win the money he would need to wrap up his problem with the security guard.

"Where do you work?" he asked.

"I'm a security guard in Webster Groves."

Dean said, "That's where you must have seen me. I've been staying there for a while now."

"Yeah, that must be it." A woman walked up to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Well, I got to go. I'll see you around."

With that the security guard left and Dean let out a sigh of relief. His opponent messed up and Dean didn't give him a chance to recover. He walked away from the game with an extra two hundred dollars in his pocket.

--------------------

Sam was walking back from the forest where he had been practicing. To get back to the apartment from where he was he had to walk through downtown. Most of the stores were closed, but a couple of groups of people were still hanging around. Sam passed an alley when he felt someone grab his right shoulder and start to turn him around.

Sam spun around fast and hit the man in the stomach with his left fist. When he doubled over Sam was able to bring his right fist up and catch the man under the chin. The man stepped back and said, "Kid, wait, we just wanted to ask you some questions."

The man's voice sounded familiar, so Sam stopped. He noticed another man coming up behind the first one and when they stepped into the streetlight he recognized them as the two cops that had come by the apartment earlier. "What do you want?"

"We just want to ask you a few questions," the older one said.

Sam knew they couldn't legally force him to answer any questions, but also knew he wanted them to stop inquiring. He wondered how he could get them to back off. It was times like this when he wished he were as good a liar as Dean.

When Sam didn't say anything the older one continued. "Do you know what your brother was doing out on that road the other night?"

Sam couldn't think of a way to answer that would make the cops leave them alone. Dean could have. Well, if Dean could figure a way out of this, why shouldn't he just act like Dean? He crossed his arms and leaned against the light post.

"He told you."

"Your brother doesn't seem like the star-gazing type."

Sam scoffed, "True. But he's also not the kind to even know what's in the county clerk's office, much less want to break into it."

"Just tell us what he was doing out there."

Sam was very close to saying, 'What are you going to do, arrest me?', but he thought pretending to give in would be the smarter thing to do.

He uncrossed his arms and sighed. "Promise you won't tell our dad?"

The two cops looked at each other like they had just hit gold. "Sure."

"Well, there's this girl," Sam almost laughed when both of their faces fell. "Her name's…Mary Sue. Dean's been trying to hook up with her for a while now, but her parent wouldn't allow it and I don't think he wanted to bring her back to our place with me there. So that left the car."

"You're telling me that your bother was out on that road making out with some girl?"

"Pretty sure they were doing more than that," Sam said. The older cop looked like he wasn't quite buying Sam's story, so he flashed him the puppy dog eyes.

The older cop finally sighed and said, "Okay, kid. Thanks."

As the two of them were walking away, Sam heard the younger one say, "Told you it was nothing."

Sam smiled and started walking back.

--------------------

When Dean arrived back at the apartment, Sam still wasn't there. He took a duffel bag out to the Impala and opened the trunk. He put two shotguns, a couple of handfuls of rock salt rounds, and the blowtorch in the bag. When he closed the trunk he could see Sam walking up the driveway.

"Where've you been?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Nowhere important."

Dean would have normally kept pestering Sam until he found out, but they had more important things to worry about. Dean said, "Considering the cops in this town don't seem to have anything better to do than take note of where my car is, we'll just walk."

The stayed off the sidewalks as they moved closer and closer to the house. When they got there they saw that the area was still taped off, but there were no cops hanging around. They ducked beneath the tape and went up the front steps to the door. They both ducked down as Dean opened the bag and handed Sam one of the shotguns.

Dean could see that Sam was nervous. He was breathing heavily and he was sweating; too much for it to all be the result of the humidity. He knew Sam should go in with him and get more experience, but the big brother in him won out and he said, "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

Sam looked a little offended at that. "I'm coming, Dean."

Dean just nodded and picked the lock to the front door. He swung the duffel bag over his shoulder and took out his own shotgun. "Stay behind me, Sammy. If this goes south, I want you to get out right away."

Sam just nodded and they both moved inside. Dean led the way to the staircase as quickly as he could without being reckless. Dean started walking up the stairs when something threw him back down and across the room so he landed in front of the coffee table.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

The gun and duffel bag had flown out of Dean's hands. Dean looked up to see the spirit of Maria standing in front of him. She looked almost exactly like she had in the pictures he'd seen of her, except she had a bruise across her throat from when she had hanged herself. She held a butcher knife in her right hand, which she drew back, getting ready to strike at Dean. He saw his shotgun was just a few feet away, under the couch. He dove across the coffee table and picked up the gun, blasting her with rock salt.

Sam had run back down the stairs, but Dean yelled at him, "Find the ring!"

Sam ran back towards the stairs when Maria appeared in front of him. Dean pulled Sam out of the way just as she brought the blade forward, which left a long gash in Dean's left forearm. Then Sam hit her with the rock salt.

"This bitch is really starting to piss me off!" Dean said.

He ran up the stair with Sam right behind him. He quickly looked in the rooms, then found the one that must have been Maria's. They both started searching the dresser and desk. Sam opened a small drawer and found the ring. "Got it, Dean."

"Drop it on the desk," Dean said as he pulled the blowtorch out.

Maria appeared again and Dean once more shot her. Sam said, "Dean, you use that here and you'll set the whole place on fire!"

"Who cares?"

"If you don't have the ring close enough to the blowtorch, it won't melt. If you set the desk on fire we'll have to get out of here and it won't work."

"Fine!" Dean said as he grabbed the ring and ran down the stairs. Maria kept appearing, but Sam kept shooting her.

Dean ran into the kitchen and opened the oven. He threw the ring in, then lit the torch. Maria appeared in the kitchen, but she was too late. Her spirit was consumed in flames and she disappeared. Dean turned off the torch, then collapsed on the floor. He only then seemed to realize his arm was bleeding. He wrapped his hand around it, trying to add pressure.

Sam ran into the room and said, "Dean, what happened?"

Dean stood up, smiled, and said, "We got her, Sammy."

They put everything back into the duffel bag and left the house. When they got back to the apartment, Sam fell down on the couch, falling asleep almost instantly. Dean cleaned out his wound, then bandaged it. He laid down in his bed and fell asleep.

--------------------

The next morning Sam got up and changed into a new set of clothes. He had some breakfast, then he set out all the weapons and began cleaning them. He kept glancing at the clock, wondering when Dean was going to get up. He was tempted to go in and wake him, but decided against it. Sam never wanted Dean to be mad at him, but definitely not today.

Around 11 Dean finally came down the hallway. He saw that Sam was cleaning the weapons and just looked at him. "What?" Sam asked.

"You're cleaning the weapons and I didn't tell you to."

"So?"

"You sure you didn't hit your head yesterday?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean ate some breakfast, then went back into their room to change. He came back in time to see Sam putting all the guns back together. Compared to Dean he was still slow, but it was a great improvement considering where he had been at the beginning of the week.

Sam tucked one of the guns into the back of his pants and stood up. "Come on, Dean."

"Dude, I just got up. Besides, where do we have to go today? The job's done."

Sam tossed the car keys at him. "I want to show you something."

Dean looked a little perplexed, but slowly said, "Okay."

They got in the car and Dean said, "Where?"

"The forest."

Now Dean looked even more confused. The more confused Dean got, the bigger Sam's smile got. Dean started driving and said, "Dude, you're starting to freak me out. You want to go shooting?"

"You'll see."

Dean parked the car and Sam immediately got out. He led the way into the woods to the spot they had been using. Sam picked up six of the cans and placed them on a branch. Dean leaned against the side of a tree. Sam thought he was preparing himself for a couple of boring hours of Sam missing. He raised his gun and fired consecutively six times, each bullet taking a can off the branch.

When the cans had all landed Sam turned and looked at Dean. He had the biggest smile on his face. He looked at Sam and said, "That's my boy."


End file.
